Page 44 of The Naughty List
“I don’t usually kiss on the mouth,” Jonah says softly. An apology in his tone.
Say what?
I pull back to look at him. “Who are you, Julia Roberts?” It’s possible he’s never seenPretty Womanjudging from his expression.
Whatever.
I’m getting some mouth action. I love his lips and I’ve had to fantasize about that irresistible mouth for two solid years now.
“That’s too bad, because you have a little icing right…” I lean forward and kiss the sugary sweetness off the corner of his lips.
I use my tongue to swipe the icing from his lower lip then I suck it into my mouth, intentionally letting my teeth graze his skin.
His lips are tentative at first, gentle against mine. But when I open for him, he unleashes his tongue, gliding it against mine then pressing harder as if he has to explore every inch of my mouth. Thoroughly.
I moan and that spurs his efforts.
When we finally come up for air, he leans away from me long enough to yank his drenched T-shirt off his body. It lands somewhere in the floor with a loud, wet smacking sound.
“It’s a shame you don’t kiss on the mouth, because you’re really fucking good at it.”
My hands embrace his scorching hot skin, roaming and squeezing and gripping wherever they can find purchase as we resume our heavy make-out session.
“This dress is going to be the death of me,” he groans, pulling the front down below my breasts to expose my red lace bra. His mouth descends into my cleavage and I whimper as he lavishes attention upon one side and then the other.
When he yanks my bra down and takes my left nipple into his mouth, the prevalent ache between my thighs becomes unbearable. I wrap my legs around him, thrusting my hips and grinding against his Santa belt for some relief.
So wrong, so dirty. But too good to stop.
“Jonah,” I cry out when his teeth nip at my sensitive flesh.
“Hollis, if you need me to stop, now is the time. I’m approaching the point of no return here.”
That makes two of us.
“Please don’t stop,” I beg, too far gone to be ashamed of my plea.
I never want this to end. The intimate closeness to this man who keeps everyone at a distance is better than any drug. Having him like this is divine, indulgent bliss, sweeter than all of the icing in the world.
His hands bunch my dress around my waist then pull it over my head.
We work together to remove my bra, then my panties.
I’m stark naked on my boss’s kitchen countertop. Definitely going to leave Erma a note to sanitize thoroughly.
He kicks off his boots then his Santa pants until he’s standing before me in only black boxer briefs with a thick, gray waistband. Jonah’s eyes rake over my exposed flesh. My entire body heats to a dangerous degree.
We’re going somewhere I’ve never been before and the uncharted territory has me entering panic mode.
I’ve made out before. I’m familiar with second base. I’ve even ventured to third a few times. I live with my parents, not in a convent. I given a blow job or two. But other than fingers, I’ve never had a man inside me.
“You have a little icing right here,” Jonah remarks, tracing a finger across my inner thigh.
“We made a mess,” I say quietly.
Jonah nods, bending forward so that his face is level with mine. “Guess it’s time to clean up.”
He dips his head lower, licking the dried icing on my thigh, then moves higher. He places an open-mouthed kiss just inside my groin.
